


New Year

by OtterlyDeerlightful



Series: Lifemates AU [3]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: Cuddles, Fluff, M/M, lonely, love shack baby, written on a whim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 15:59:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13193529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtterlyDeerlightful/pseuds/OtterlyDeerlightful
Summary: Glanni is alone freezing in his makeshift home. If only he had a stupid elf to cuddle with...





	New Year

It was freezing. Again. But it was winter, so what else was new? Glanni curled up on his sorry excuse for a mattress and pulled his disgusting tangle of what were once blankets up around his chin. And he shivered. At least the man had finally gotten his stupid generator up and working again. It was just doing a piss-poor job at working as well as it should. But, to the stupid thing’s credit, it was warmer in the little shack than it had been an hour ago. It was working…just very _very_ slowly.

He was still freezing his dick off, but he would live.

Glanni sniffled and curled further into the extra padding of the dog bed he had added to his pile of flat pillows and hole-ridden sheets. Stupid animals didn’t know how good they had it; this thing was nicer than Glanni had expected. It almost made things bearable.

“Fucking f-fuck,” he whined to the cold aid. “Ugh. I can see my breath. Stupid g-god-d-damn heater is useless!”

The felon had been doing his best to try and get to sleep for the last hour or two, but it was no use. Between the cold and his wandering mind, he was as wide awake as ever. Glanni hated being down on his luck, but…he had hit a dry spell. In more ways than one. The worst part, aside from the abysmal conditions, was the unending loneliness.

As much as he hated to admit it, Glanni missed Íþrót. He missed the elf’s stupidly goofy mustache on his dumb face. He missed his sweet musky apple scent. He even missed his little asshole flip-flops the idiot would do just to cross a room. Most of all, he missed Íþróttaálfurinn’s strong-yet-gentle arms. As strange and confusing as their ‘relationship’ was, Glanni had to admit he loved being in that fucking dolt’s arms. The arms of his enemy. But Íþrót wasn’t here. He never was, but…whose fault was that? Glanni whined and pulled his blanket over his head. Stupid Íþrót. Stupid elves. Stupid…life.

Glanni was jolted from his morose reflections by the sudden clang and scrape of metal beyond his shack’s sorry excuse for a door. Oh shit. He sat up in an instant, ready to pounce on whatever dickhead was messing with his stuff.

“Hey!” he snapped loudly. “Get your greasy mitts off my shit! That’s _mine_ , asshole!”

There was a pause in the scuffling and shuffling outside before a sweet-yet-authoritative voice pushed through the cracks in the shack door.

“Glanni?”

The fae could feel the immediate smile at his lips upon hearing that voice.

“Who wants to know?” he called.

There were a few more clangs and thumps outside before the rickety door inched open. Íþrót poked his head inside while he still worked to trying to shove the seemingly stuck planks of wood further in. Glanni tried to suppress his excitement and adopt a more suspicious expression.

“It’s not nice to barge into a man’s home. That’s trespassing. I should call a fucking hero on your ass.”

Íþrót snickered, turning around and fixing the metal sheets outside before easing the door closed again before speaking. “You have many heroes in your rolodex?” he questioned.

Glanni rolled his eyes. “What decade are _you_ living in?” he teased. “…How’d you find me, anyway?”

“You’re the one who called me,” the elf pointed out as he finally started to take a look around the room. Glanni didn’t like the frown slowly forming on the hero’s face.

“I left that letter at city hall, like, a week ago! It took you _this_ long to find me?”

Íþrót gave him a look. “I checked everywhere I could think. You are a very tough man to find.”

“Good! I’m wanted by the police, you fucking idiot!”

“You don’t…actually live here, do you, Glanni?” the elf asked as he looked over his surroundings.

The fae shrugged and glanced toward the makeshift heater. He shivered. “Not all the time.”

Glanni listened to the hero’s footsteps grow closer and pulled his blankets up and around his shoulders when he felt the man sit down next to him.

“Glanni, look at me. Please?”

Stupid elf. The man looked up and cowered slightly under the concerned gaze of those beautiful blue eyes. Íþrót inched closer to him.

“Come back to my balloon with me. I can insulate it for you. It will be warm, and—”

“No.”

“But…why?” the hero asked, utterly bewildered by the criminal’s stubbornness.

Glanni shook his head. “I hate charity.”

“It’s not charity,” the elf insisted quietly. “It’s caring about my…”

Both men looked away. What _were_ they, anyway? They had gone on a few dates, sure. Íþróttaálfurinn made Glanni feel safe, sure. Glanni loved the stupid fuckwad even though he would never admit it out loud, sure. But that didn’t mean that Íþrót was…his _boyfriend_ , did it? Hell, did it even matter in the end?

“You can care about me all you want, but the stupid balloon is _yours_ ,” Glanni mumbled. “I can’t keep running to you like a fucking infant. You’re not my mother!”

Íþrót nodded sadly. “I understand.” He clearly didn’t like it, but he did understand.

Glanni swallowed. “But… _right now_ you’re in my place,” he noted. “I know this shithole isn’t much, but you’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.” He glanced around. “…Don’t exactly have any of your nasty sportscandy, but, uh, there might find a potato growing somewhere if you’re lucky.”

Íþrót gave a light chuckle and leaned over to give Glanni a quick peck on the cheek. The criminal felt his face warm in spite of the frigid temperature. He leaned against the dumb elf’s shoulder. This is what he had wanted when he dropped off that stupid letter: a short silly message asking the great Íþróttaálfurinn for help at his ‘home’ that was signed with nothing but a lipstick print of a kiss. But Glanni hadn’t been entirely sure he would actually _get_ any of this in the end.

“Are you alright, Glanni? I’ve been worried.”

He hated saying it. But they were alone… it was safe. “I missed you,” Glanni admitted in a small voice. “It’s a little hard to find you without some kind of catastrophe first. And I can’t exactly go looking for you…”

“The last time you tried _was_ a bit of a disaster,” Íþrót teased as his breath wisped around Glanni’s ear, his lips soon following.

Glanni smiled in spite of himself. “I’m serious,” he said while his eyes fixated on a nearby rock. “Look, I hate saying mushy shit like this, but…sometimes…it’s…nicer to have you around than to _not_ have you around. Especially when there’s no one else to…distract me.” The fae let out a heavy cloud of breath. “I…miss you, you piece of shit.”

Íþrót’s arms wrapped around the criminal’s small frame. The elf silently kissed his neck and pulled Glanni into the leather armor of his chest. Glanni shut his eyes to keep from betraying his own heart, but didn’t fight the tender embrace in the slightest. If anything, he curled into it. He felt Íþrót kiss the top of his head and he smiled.

“Thanks for coming, by the way,” Glanni mumbled.

“I started looking for you as soon as I got your message,” the elf said quietly. “I’m sorry it took so long.”

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“I think staying up with you might be worth it,” Íþrót said with a smile. “I happen to think sitting with my favorite criminal is a lovely way to bring in the new year.”

“New year? What the fuck are you on?” Glanni asked as he looked up at the hero with a lopsided smile.

Íþrót gave the man a look. “Glanni, it’s December thirty-first.”

“…Is it?” He blinked in surprise. “Oh.” Glanni frowned. “Well then.”

The elf rolled his eyes and pressed another kiss against Glanni’s temple. The fae, in turn, pulled up a bundle of his sheets and threw them over Íþróttaálfurinn’s shoulders.

“Well, if you’re going to stay for New Years, you might as well get under here.”

“I can do that,” Íþrót said with a smile.

He pulled the blankets closer around he and Glanni. Grabbing the felon’s shoulders, Íþrót threw himself back down on the makeshift bed and dragged the yelping fae along with him.

“What the—fucking….fuckwads, Íþrót!”

The hero laughed into Glanni’s neck. The criminal swatted at him, aiming for the stupid elf’s cute stupid face. Íþrót took the beating in good humor.

“You’re an asshole.”

“You know you like that part about me.”

Glanni rolled his eyes, but smiled. “I do. It’s a good part.”

Íþrót nuzzled his face into the fae’s neck. Glanni pulled off the hero’s cap to run his hand through the handsome elf’s hair. Planting his lips on those of his supposed enemy, Glanni grabbed that wonderfully shining hair and pulled. Íþrótt moaned into Glanni’s mouth. Now, that’s what he was talking about! With his free hand, Glanni pulled the elf closer by his waist. He was immediately frustrated by the number of layers between them and let out a whine to make his feelings known.

Íþróttaálfurinn pulled away from their kiss with a hearty chuckle. “What’s wrong, my Street King?”

Glanni opened his mouth to complain about the lack of nakedness in what he had hoped would be his literal love shack, but paused when hearing the elf’s nickname for him.

“Street King?”

Íþrót shrugged, his smile small and eyes cast down at the fae’s chest rather than his face.

Glanni snorted and nuzzled his hero. He gave Íþrót a kiss on the nose. “About time someone recognized my prestige. I love it. Call me it again.”

The hero smiled, practically purring as he gently stroked Glanni’s greasy-yet-soft hair. “My handsome Street King.”

Glanni wiggled in delight. “Say it again.”

Íþróttaálfurinn gently pressed the man back against the dog bed below him. He leaned over the thin criminal’s frame before leaning down and peppering Glanni’s neck with soft kisses. “My sweet, beautiful, _perfect_ Street King,” his whispered. “How may I serve you, my liege?”

“Oh, I could get used to hearing that,” Glanni whispered. “Well, my loyal subject, I do have _one_ request.”

“What is it, my gorgeous king?”

“Pants. Why are they still there?”

Íþrót laughed. “In spite of the cold you _still_ want to undress?”

Glanni shrugged. “I like you naked.”

The hero fell back in a fit of laughter. “Well!” he chuckled between his giggles and snorts, “It _is_ true that skin-to-skin contact can help warm a person…”

“Street King says pants off!”

Íþrót shook his head. He got up to get undressed while Glanni laid back and quietly watched. How the goddamn elf had such a beautiful, perfect body, the criminal had no clue. But he never got tired of seeing that sweet little toned ass. He couldn’t believe Íþróttaálfurinn has come for him, and Glanni couldn’t help but feel…touched. The stupid dick was too good for him. But he wasn’t about to tell him that tonight.

Glanni felt a strange sensation in his chest as he watched Íþrót remove his boots. It was an odd feeling, one he had never felt before meeting the stupid hero, but one that had been coming up more and more frequently as of late. As much as he loved to watch Íþróttaálfurinn’s naked form on full display in front of him…he could be satisfied with that. He _loved_ sex with the athletic fucker, but…Glanni found he no longer _needed_ it, at least not with each and every encounter. Sometimes he wondered if there was something wrong with him, but really, who the fuck cared? Íþrót didn’t seem to mind; if anything, the flippy hero seemed happy with the change. Who was Glanni to deny the sweet, innocent elf some downtime for his ass to recover?

Striding over, Íþrót leaned down and gave Glanni another kiss. The fae’s fingers slithered to the back of the hero’s neck as he inched his tongue into the hero’s mouth. He could feel Íþrót’s course hands slowly unzipping his cat suit.

“Get down here,” Glanni breathed quietly whilst he shook his clothing from his shoulders. “Help your king out of his royal robes.”

“It would be my pleasure, your highness,” the hero whispered, sinking low to undress the criminal.

Glanni stared up at the ceiling. He had a choice. His little ‘home’ was still cold, as both their nipples and dicks were happy to remind them, yet it didn’t seem to matter so much anymore. He had two options now. Comfortably warm or  wonderfully steamy. Íþrót tossed the old cat suit away and happily began to kiss the fae’s stomach. Glanni closed his eyes for a few minutes, just letting himself get lost in the sensations of someone so tenderly caring for and about him. It was nice. Glanni didn’t want it to stop.

“Íþrót?”

“Yes?”

Glanni swallowed and opened his eyes. “Could you get up here?”

Curious, Íþrót crawled up beside the thin man, leaning on one elbow while his free hand still caressed Glanni’s lovely stomach. “You’re thinking about something,” the hero noted as he watched the felon’s face.

“Hold me?” Glanni asked hesitantly.

“Always,” Íþróttaálfurinn whispered.

He pulled the fae close. This time, Glanni felt not chilled leather, but a toasty, solid heroic chest. He all but melted from the elf’s comforting body heat. He shoved his face into the soft pale hair that resided there.

“Glanni, are you okay?”

He nodded against Íþrót’s chest. He wrapped his arms around the man and squeezed. “I really _have_ missed you…”

Glanni felt the strong arms squeeze around him.

“I’ve missed you, too, Glanni.”

“Can we just…stay like this for a while?”

“Of course,” the hero said quietly. He reached down to pull up the fae’s plethora of blankets for further warmth. “As long as you’d like.”

“Thank you for coming,” Glanni mumbled as he finally allowed his cold, tired body to relax.

“Who am I to turn down an invitation from my king?” Íþrót lovingly teased. He snuggled down in the mattress-dog bed nest and nuzzled his face into Glanni’s hair. “Happy New Year, Glanni.”

Maybe this year things would be different. Better, even. It was certainly off to a good start so far. Glanni let out a content sigh as he rested against the chest of the hero he so loved and listened to the faint sound of fireworks off in the distance.

“Happy New Year, Íþrót.”


End file.
